


Not Just a River in Egypt

by kirael



Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Gen, Monologuing, Perry is perpetually exasperated, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 04:29:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10823781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirael/pseuds/kirael
Summary: Heinz Doofenshmirtz adjusts to being good.





	Not Just a River in Egypt

Though he'd never admit this to anyone except his nemesis (well, ex-nemesis), he wasn't born evil. He had married Charlene, hadn't he, and she didn't have an evil bone in her body. His fellow (ex-fellow?) evil scientists often boasted that they'd been born with a miniature death ray in their hands and a piercing cackle, but Doofenshmirtz still remembered the days spent innocently selling bratwurst, high on independence, and thinking, somehow, that he could do this for the rest of his life. The evil came later (though Perry the…er, just Perry now, he supposed, obnoxiously just and righteous platypus that he was, would surely argue that he had never really been evil, just more than a little in need of a way to vent – if Perry the Platypus could argue, or even talk at all, that is).

So maybe this whole thing was inevitable. He had managed over half a decade of evil, which was a much longer commitment than anything else he’d tried his hand at before (and that was including his marriage). _Right_ , he thought, flipping through the issue of _Good Guys Weekly_ that had showed up inexplicably that morning on his doorstep, he can’t believe he ever thought he’d be able to keep up that whole _evil_ thing. Then, if it was inevitable, why was he still lazily sitting on his couch at half-past noon in his pajamas? Shouldn’t he be out there, you know, doing some good or something?

Jeez, he thought he’d gotten over monologuing, even if it was just in his own head. Some habits were hard to break – like the one that woke him up every morning at six o’clock sharp to get ready for his daily scheme or the one that plucked pitifully at his heartstrings whenever Perry the Platypus didn’t show up, no matter how much he told himself that he was good now, and good guys never got nemeses, unless they were bad guys. (If he was honest with himself, he caught himself more than once drawing up plans for an –inator to get Perry the Platypus to come over and thwart him, just for the good ol’ times.)

The pages of _Good Guys Weekly_ were coated in some sort of glossy sheen and were heavy as he flipped through it, barely skimming through the articles on proper fedora care and tips for improving your exasperated glare. _Evil Magazine_ came out _monthly_ , and had half the quality of the magazine he held in his hands, and had an even worse name. How much money did the other side (well, his side now) have, anyway?

Apparently too much, because when he turned to the back pages to find the classifieds (–what? He figured it was about time to stop just relying on Charlene’s checks.), a full-blown pop up of the OWCA building sprang up, with various animals in fedoras, all with very intimidating but strangely cutesy glares, surrounding it. “Join the OWCA!*” the ad read in big, shiny letters. The asterisk lead to a message printed in small font near the bottom: “*humans need not apply.”

Heinz turned the thing over to squint at the back cover. Ah, there it was: the OWCA logo printed on the back. He wondered vaguely if animals wrote the magazine too, or if they hired actual humans to do the typing. Actually, scratch that; he knew enough about the organization to know they would never spare the money to hire any more people when they could just overwork their existing agents.

The thought led to an image of Perry the Platypus hunched over a rickety typewriter, scowling and bitterly pounding out bland articles with catchy headlines. It made Heinz laugh aloud, throwing the magazine aside as he leaned back onto the couch and closing his eyes.

Back to the matter at hand – uh, what was he thinking about again? Right, right, his crippling ineptitude and lack of purpose now that he wasn’t evil and didn’t have any sense of structure in his life.

What gave him structure in his life before he became good? There were the –inators, and constant villainous scheming, and – oh.

 _Dummkopf_.

Heinz grabbed the magazine and turned back to the classifieds, scanning the OWCA ad until he found what he was looking for.

He clumsily dug out his phone from the pockets of his lab coat and punched in the number listed on the magazine. He waited patiently as the phone rang.

“Hi, this is Heinz-“

“Didn’t you read the ad? We’re not hiring humans at the moment.” The voice was higher than he expected, and more than a little shrill.

“Yeah, I just need to talk to Francis Monogram? Major?”

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure who you’re talking about.”

“…Is this about your agency’s secret cover? I’ll have you know I was an evil scientist for over half a decade, and I-“

“Can you repeat your name, sir?”

“Heinz Doofenshmirtz? Aych-ee-eye-en-zee. Heinz. Dee-oh-oh–“

“You don’t need to spell it out, sir.”

“Can I speak to Francis Monogram? Ef-are –“

“You don’t need to spell it out. Transferring the call now.”

There was a soft beeping noise, and Francis Monogram’s voice boomed out from the tiny speakers in Heinz’s phone.

“Dr. Doofenshmirtz? I _told_ you not to call anymore.”

Heinz held the phone further away from him. “No, no, no, this is important! It’s about Perry the Platypus.”

A pause.

“He’s not your nemesis anymore. Why are you calling?”

“I, uh…” He mumbled something into the phone.

Another pause, and the voice on the other end of the phone burst out laughing. Heinz scowled as he waited for Francis Monogram to stop laughing, and then when it didn’t stop, he said, “Alright, alright, it’s not that funny.”

Too late. “Carl! Carl! Dr. Doofenshmirtz just asked me to send Agent P over because he was _lonely_.”

Heinz buried his face in his hands. Trust Monogram to completely misinterpret what he was saying, even if it was more or less what he meant. Again, maybe being good was a mistake. At least when he was evil he rarely had to deal with the true evil that was bureaucracy (other than his brother and his occasional trips to renew his license or to court or to…well, "occasional" was relative anyway).

The voice on the other end of the phone coughed once, then spoke again, this time his voice mostly flat. “Agent P is on an extended vacation after your rivalry was officially terminated. I can’t send him over on company time.”

“Could you just – could you just ask him to come over? Just say I need his help with an electrical issue or something.” Heinz was aware he sounded absolutely pitiful, his voice more than a little desperate.

Another voice interrupted the phone call, high and tinny. “I’m sorry, Dr. D, but Agent P’s shut off all communications except the emergency ones, which is reserved for, well, emergencies. You’ll have to wait until he comes back.”

A small part of Heinz wanted to say something like, “This is an emergency!” but the more sensible part of him pushed it down. Unfortunately, that small part was really, _really_ good at fighting back so he quickly hung up before it resurfaced. He tossed the phone aside, ignoring the loud crash it made when it landed.

Drat. Now his whole plan was buried under a pile of trash, then covered in volcanic ash, then covered in soil and more trash. Along with his phone.

Now, if he was able to resort to his old chaotic ways, he'd probably hack into the OWCA, or build a Perry-the-Platypus-inator, or get Vanessa to sneak him Perry the Platypus’s address, but alas, goodness was as limiting as it was boring.

He let out a small huff of frustration. Life was so much better when he was out there causing harm and mayhem in the Tri-State Area instead of doing whatever he was doing right now. He scooped up the discarded _Good Guys Weekly_ and flipped through it, this time reading it more thoroughly to pick out any ideas on what being good really meant.

The fedora upkeep article was surprisingly interesting. Who knew there were so many ways to clean the brim saw?

Eventually, after realizing that maybe _Good Guys Weekly_ was probably more directed toward the fighting evil inclined animal, he crumpled it up into a ball (unsuccessful, of course; the paper was way too high-quality for that) and chucked it across the room.

There was a knock on his door.

Heinz’s eyes widened. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and Vanessa wasn’t due until the weekend. Did he accidentally order a pizza when he was half-asleep? Was he sleep inventing a doorknockinator? He climbed up onto his feet and made his way to the door, opening it up only to find…nobody. What?

There was a bemused chattering from his feet.

Heinz looked down to find Perry the Platypus standing in his doorway.

“Oh,” Heinz said. “Perry the Platypus. I thought you weren’t coming. Monogram and that red-headed kid said you were on vacation.”

Perry the Platypus held up his watch, which was flashing bright red with the word “EMERGENCY” written in stark white.

Heinz rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Yeah, uh. I didn’t ask them to call you.”

Perry the Platypus stared at him flatly.

“Ok, maybe I did ask them to call you, but I didn’t do anything once they said you were on vacation. They were the ones who decided that this was an emergency.” He moved to the side. “Well, since you’re here, come on in.”

His ex-nemesis stepped into the house cautiously, checking for traps as he went, probably a lingering habit from the half-decade they’ve been nemeses.

Heinz followed him, talking the whole time, mostly completely oblivious to what Perry the Platypus was doing. “I don’t know what Monogram _told_ you, but there’s no actual problem going on. I, uh, don’t know _exactly_ how to say this, but I’ve realized that I’m not actually that good at being good, and it’s getting on my last nerve. I just thought – since you’re pretty good at this whole justice and righteousness thing, you could help me?”

He was pretty sure he was babbling at this point, though it never really mattered to him. He glanced down at Perry the Platypus, and only just noticed that his ex-nemesis was carrying a huge pile of black sweaters and lab coats and picking up more as they walked around the house.

“Oh, yeah, that,” Heinz said. “I’ve kind of fallen behind on my laundry after realizing I didn’t have to, y’know, _dress up_ for anyone. Not that I dressed up for you! Just for my schemes. You have to look your best when you’re taking over the Tri-State Area.”

That got him an eye roll. Perry the Platypus, balancing the stack of clothing in his arms, walked over to the laundry chute and dumped the entire thing in. He brushed his hands together and turned back to Heinz.

“Were you even listening to my speech?”

Another eye roll.

“Don’t give me that look! You know, if you’re just going to to insult me then you can just return to your vacation.”

Speaking of vacation, now that he could get a proper look at him, Perry the Platypus looked…different. His coat of fur-feather was glossier and thicker, and he himself was a little…plumper. Healthier. Huh. Guess he really did need a vacation. Maybe that’s what Heinz needed: a good ol’ week spent relaxing by the seaside (on second thought, being that he hated sand and the sea, he’d rather not) or a weekend strolling down the streets of Paris (again, on second thought, seeing how his last trip turned out, maybe not).

Perry the Platypus walked over to the balcony and pulled out the wadded up _Good Guys Weekly_ out from under the Shrinkinator-turned-planter.

“My issue of _Good Guys Weekly_? Yeah, it just showed up this morning with no explanation. I think the subscription came with the gift basket you sent me.”

Perry the Platypus flipped it open to the last page, with the pop up ad for the OWCA.

Heinz stared at it, uncomprehending. “I can’t join the OWCA, Perry the Platypus. In _case_ you haven’t noticed, I’m human. Didn’t you read the fine print?”

Perry the Platypus pointed to the cartoon cat agent that was using a grappling hook.

“Wait, what? Why would you indicate the cat in particular? It’s not like I’m affiliated with any – _oh_.” Ding ding ding, jackpot. “You think I can get in because I raised by ocelots?”

A nod.

“And that works?”

Perry the Platypus shrugged and closed the magazine back up.

“Worth a try?”

Perry the Platypus flashed Heinz one of his rare smiles and gave him a thumbs up.

Huh. Okay, it was admittedly a bad plan. Perry the Platypus was most likely just speaking (hah) off the cuff to make Heinz shut up and stop bothering him. But then again, when had he not gone through with his ridiculous plans? Maybe this whole goodness thing would turn out alright anyway. Wouldn't that be a change?

**Author's Note:**

> i can't believe i wrote this. anyway, hope you enjoyed and such. comment/kudos if you do.
> 
> note: this whole thing is canon adjacent, in a universe where doof gets into the owca but owca files doesn't happen bc of reasons.  
> also, offscreen, major monogram and carl had checked perry's list of what counts as an emergency, which contains just the singular word "doofenshmirtz" and "the flynn-fletchers" both of which are underlined in furious red sharpie


End file.
